


Wish Fulfillment

by vexahliaderolo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dream Sex, F/M, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Succubi & Incubi, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, not too much and only for a brief section
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 20:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18038906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexahliaderolo/pseuds/vexahliaderolo
Summary: “Going down the well had seemed like a good idea — well, it had been the only idea, really.”aka Fjord finds himself stuck between a rock and a rather wonderful place.





	Wish Fulfillment

**Author's Note:**

> how about that new episode, huh?
> 
> I bring you all some unbeta’d filth once more.
> 
> [EDITED AND IMPROVED NOW!]

Going down the well had seemed like a good idea — well, it had been the only idea, really. Nott had descended, small in stature and dexterous to a fault she made the jump easily, feather falling to the dampened floor. It had been easy for her. And so, of course, Fjord had followed without batting a single thick eyelash. It was this, what you might call naivete or even hubris, that had Fjord finding himself in a rather… Provocative stance. Only now with his hands laying flat to his thighs, the width of which were firmly stuck between the bricks that made up the circumference of the well, did he realise that his body may differ slightly to the one that jumped first.

“I’ll check on ahead, the others will get you out!” Nott all but screeched below him, projecting her voice after assuming that the sound might not travel around the body clogging the passage where his head lay back against moistened, moss covered stone.

“Wait—“ footsteps echoed, quick and deliberate, followed a strange thumping sound that ended as abruptly as it began. “Nott?” He tried. There was no answer.

“Caleb? Jester..?!” It was difficult to keep the twinge of panic from his inflection when he called out towards the hollow entrance up high. The others above him must still be there, stuck at the opening of the well whilst he hovered somewhere below. They must be coming now, he thought, must be readying themselves to jump in and free him and—-

“Don’t panic, Fjord!” That familiar sweet lilt sounded out, accent thick with promise. Oh, Jester, sweet Jester. Here to save the day as always, ready to rescue—- “We’re going to go and look for help! We’ll be back soon, we set some alarms and stuff, don’t worry!”

Ah.

There wasn’t much he could do as he listened to the crowd of steps fade into silence, a disgruntled scoff was all he could manage, though the puff of air caused a small spray of dirt to ricochet back at his open lips from the wall directly opposite. He could taste the dirt on the gravel. He could feel the gravel. In fact he was so tightly packed in to the cylinder of stone that he felt he may turn in to gravel if he stayed pressurised between these walls for too long. It was during his descent in to this fantastical option for his demise that he heard it; laughter. At first he thought it was an echo but he realised with alarm that it was a layered chorus of two. One was a sickly sugar glazed giggle, high in its pitch but still the sound was full, lifting the hairs on his arms as he listened. The second voice was lower, still sweet but somehow creamy this time, the sound flowing over him like a thick honey. He could feel the tension in his gut as the laughter grew closer, the volume ebbing higher until he knew, even blinded as he was by his predicament, that they were beneath him.

“Oh?” The sugary tone began.

“Stuck, are we?” The honey continued.

“What a prize you are.”

“An absolute _treat.”_

It was difficult to listen, not just because he knew what — who — it was that stood below, but because the way they spoke seemed to instil a fresh ache within. The steady, deliberate lull of their voice somehow felt like it was rocking him to sleep whilst simultaneously cracking him open, like an egg beneath a hammer, vulnerable and bound to break. When he thought about it too much it stung, the idea that he already expected to succumb, wanted to almost, was a weight on him like nothing else. The honey had turned to bees and the sugar to poison and so he thought of nothing, closing his eyes when even his blank stare, that met nothing but grey stone, became tiring. The way he was wedged in to the tight space made him feel as though he were floating, with his eyes closed and his breath becoming even he could imagine he were floating, suspended in the comforting rock of the ocean's waves.

Then he felt it. Movement. _Impossible_ movement.

Fjord’s body began to sway, gently and with an uneven rhythm, but a sway nonetheless. The new abnormality and the accompanying silence from beneath him was cause enough for him to open his eyes, a startled choking gasp escaping plush lips as he did. That in itself was a mystery within the one he now surveyed with wide open and shell-shocked ochre eyes, eyes that now got lost in the wide darkened depths of the ocean that stared back. It was empty and cold and frightening, as it always was, a strange unearthly comfort that eased something deep in his being as he allowed himself just half a second to float, weightless and carefree in the watery embrace.

“An unpopular choice,” He started, body going stiff in defence as the voice rippled through to him, distant but close enough to warrant his concern. “but a welcome change.”

As he watched the indigo horizon Fjord saw two figures appear before him, their silhouettes fading in to view in a way that suggested magic rather than transportation via everyday methods. Against the unsaturated teals and aquas of the ocean floor they were a bloody spark, a seductive tear in the flesh of the sea, burning red amongst the dark. Both figures were tall, smaller than himself but with longer, lithe limbs and svelte curved figures; the creature on the left had just finished speaking as they materialised and with no sense of urgency began to drift towards Fjord. Closer to him now than the other he could see she had golden eyes, reflective as the liquid they all sank in now, catching every spec of light they could down in the depths, a subtle glow surrounding the pinched, black central pupil. Almond eyes framed with lashes so long they tickled her red toned skin with every flirtatious flutter of them. Her features were sharp but not imposing, though a large part of him suspected that this particular aspect of them both was being geared towards his own tastes, her nose came to a dainty upward tilt at the tip, and her cheeks were set high but still youthfully rounded.

“You like it here.” The sugar dusted syllables returned, strangely unaffected by the water they were being thrust in to. “And so we brought you here. Relax, little sailor boy.”

Her smile as she spoke was the likes Fjord had seen on the most deadly predators and her eyes never stayed focused for long, surveying him over and over, regarding him thoroughly — _evaluating_ him, his mind offered.

“We know all about what you like.” Lean arms circled him from behind. The other fiendish figure, he noted with unease, he had been so distracted with the women in front he had had no sense to keep tabs on the man who had drifted behind. “We know everything you feel, or have felt. At least in regards to this.”  Dexterous hands slide down over the slow slope of his stomach until the tips of of his well cared for fingers danced a coy little pattern across the gradually steeping tent of Fjord's pants. Right here, as he finished his speech, there was a disastrously familiar change in his accent, Zemnian was hard to mistake, followed by a sudden shift at Fjord’s back and he could feel the brush of stubble at the very base of his neck. His entire body shivered. He chanced a look down and just a dusting of auburn hair on the sliver of visible scarred porcelain arms had his eyes flitting upwards with unrivalled speed. Only now he was met with blue. Blue, blue and _blue_. The fluttering of a well known patterned skirt, green velvet swaying in the subtle lull of the ocean’s pull behind the slow curve of thick thighs.

“We’ve seen your dreams.” The woman in front of him spoke but at the same time she didn’t. They were her words, he knew that much, but this was not her voice, the facts she reported with haughty confidence were soaked in the charmingly strong accent of another.

Fjord had never snapped his eyes shut with such gusto, scrunching his eyelids tighter and tighter until he saw flickering specs of white against void black. This was not happening. It would not happen. _Not here_ , he told himself, _not like this_.

“Most people find it to be a kindness when we fulfil their fantasies, I was looking forward to another evening steeped in gratitude.” Feeling that same shift against his back again he allowed a modicum of relaxation within his tightly wound muscles, the sound of the fiend's honey slick tone had returned, full with the sound of disappointment rather than empiric roots, and as Fjord inched his eyes open he saw the telltale red of their skin was once again wrapped around his jaded torso.

“I suppose we could swim a little closer to the surface, something with a little less feeling behind it.” With his eyes open he could watch her advance towards him, meeting the eyes of the man behind him with a knowing look that sent his nerves in to panicked overdrive, an electricity like jolt surging from the top of his spine to the tips of his toes as he realised he still could not move. So engrossed in the familiarity of the ocean taking him where it wills he had not noticed that the constraints of his waking body still held him to himself here, amongst the water in his dreams.

It was as he focused on this, trying to placate his anxieties as they clawed within his veins, doing his utmost to keep his breath calm and even, when mid attempt he felt it. The tapered length of a tentacle against his chest. Slick and heavy, it moved, a being he soon found to be invisible and springing from wherever it pleased, it was as if it were nothing more than an extension of the ocean itself. Every second that he thought it might have gone, it returned and multiplied, two and then three, three and then five, it didn’t stop until there was eight all tolled. Some held him, further restraints on his immovable body, writhing around his wrists and his ankles in a way that made a shameful heat rise on his cheeks. The rest aimlessly slid against him — his clothing apparently unnecessary in the eyes of his newfound friends who had simply wished it away — leaving a viscous trail across the stocky planes of his body.

Fjord could feel it when his legs were pried open, held taut and wide in a daring display that he couldn’t bring himself to observe, once again retreating to the safety of a closed eye. He could feel it when weighted, clear appendages seemed to migrate lower and lower until he was biting the inside of his cheeks raw as he sought out any distraction from the wet, winding mess of lengths that encircled his hips and wrapped loosely around his cock. Fjord hadn’t expected to be hard, hadn’t expected any of this really, so when that first tentacle had tightened and found purchase easily around his already stiff length he couldn’t hold back the subtly startled moan that careened up his throat and out from between lips that parted in shock. There wasn’t any time to be embarrassed after the fact either, no time to protest (though he was fairly certain by now that he would not) as the man behind him used one slender hand to tilt Fjord’s head back, the tips of pointed nails pressed unforgivably in to the soft underside of Fjord’s chin. The way their lips met was unsightly, a mess Fjord had quickly decided, but it felt good. Felt better than any kiss Fjord had ever had the luck to experience, actually. The other creatures mouth was wide set with lips that were thin but rounded in a way that cushioned them sweetly, plush and pliant against his own. Their tongue, when they slipped it by the unsuspecting opening of Fjord’s lips and gate made of half grown tusks, was slender and pointed at the tip, it tangled with his in a way so perfectly practised that it made Fjord’s head spin with possibilities. He knew logically he had not thought of any of them, that in the grand scheme of things it was perhaps the better guess to assume the images, each dirtier and more soaked in debauched sins than the one before, were planted by the two flirtatious fiends that surrounded him. He knew also that he had stopped caring.

The tentacles that held him pulled against his legs with a newfound ferocity, as though they had felt his abandonment of his cares and were seeking to take full advantage, eliciting a gentle groan from him that ricocheted sweetly in to the waiting mouth of the man behind him. He smiled and Fjord melted into him, feeling a warm glow of victorious contentment starting deep in his stomach when he felt that subtle pull of their lips. The moment could have been nice, from inside the cage that his mind was quickly becoming he felt that it was almost sweet, it almost could have been, if not for the consistent push at his ass. Two of the slick dripping lengths were vying for entry, one circled his twitching entrance with a strangely out of place tenderness, spreading the oil like substance it secreted over his skin in such large quantities that Fjord could be nothing but grateful for the minimal relief it offered as the second limb prodded and pressed with much less regard for his body's well-being, twisting and pushing against the tight ring until Fjord felt the very tip of it’s tapered girth slip by. He braced for the searing pain as he would a punch, but there was nothing. His body should have tensed subconsciously with the force of the tearing stretch, it should have worked to expel the intrusion before it could break him apart, but it was all opposite, instead he could pinpoint the second that his muscles seemed to soften, relaxing in to an almost gelatinous state as a tingling numbness began to spread within them. Fjord heard the hitching of his breath, ghosting around the high and salacious whine that seemed to flow freely from his mouth with no input from him.

“There, there, darling.” She praised him sweetly, her palms brushing up against the backs of his thighs, the now routine echo of her coy laughter racketing against his ears as she no doubt felt the set of shivers that plagued Fjord’s legs as the intrusive tentacle stretched him more and more, wider and wider, until eventually it bottomed out and he couldn't help himself, losing his small sliver of self control that he had retained in that brief second, pushing back with a greedy roll of broad hips. “You’re rather fond of that, aren’t you? Does it feel as good as you imagined it might?” If he could have answered, it would have been a yes, a resounding yell of confirmation, everything he had thought of as he relieved himself in quiet corners of roommate free rooms, all of it and more. She was climbing over him now, the alarmingly stunning succubus, the rules of this dreamscape were theirs to mould as they saw fit it seemed, and so the usual laws of gravity need not apply.

It was at the end of her second question that she settled on her spot, the reflective white of pointed teeth biting just enough to dent the plumpness of her lower lip when she purposefully dragged her dampened folds along the entirety of Fjord’s cock. Mesmerised, he watched as slender fingers reached between velveteen thighs to hold his cock steady, small, muffled mewls of appreciation catching in her throat as she circled her hips in a purposefully slow grind, holding his darkened, almost painfully throbbing tip to her clit. Fjord watched the trembling start in her thighs and grow and grow, until her fingertips were shaking with it. It was a sight to see the elongation of her scarlet neck when she tilted her head back, a breathless laugh hiccuping out from her mouth when she finally seated herself to the hilt of the large member in one smooth motion. Fjord would have liked to have seen that, the press of his swollen head to her slit, watching her open up for him, seeing his cock disappear within her heat; but his vision blurred and blackened almost as soon as the wet, inviting silk of her cunt had touched him.

“Sorry,” she breathed a laugh as she spoke. “I’m told I’m rather impatient.” 

Muffled grunts and moans fell helplessly from Fjord’s lips then, his mouth free from the other fiends kisses but still slow with the feeling of debilitating pleasure that followed. Fjord felt his body ache with it now, the sharp stretch of his legs, held open as two winding ropes of muscle took turns penetrating his already raw, twitching hole. The sting of it was mouth watering, a constant butterfly inducing drag on his walls that hurt so _good_. Then there was the new, overwhelming push and pull of warmth on his shaft, tight and slick, the woman’s folds practically dripped with the same thick liquid substance that was slathered on the tentacles around them, every droplet that came in contact with him made his skin tingle and warm beneath the mixture.

Just when it was enough, too much in reality, he noticed the tugging at his jaw. Fingers as red as blood pushed at his squared bone structure from one side, an unfamiliar patient force urging him to look to the right and up until he was face to face with a cock that gave a subtle jolt as his nose collided with its shaft, thinner than his own but curved and smooth in a way that made his pulse jump and flutter under his skin. The tip was covered in dense precum that slid in slow, lazy trails down the whole length of it, pooling just slightly atop his balls; Fjord followed the liquid with acute attention, swallowing thickly around the saliva that puddled atop his tongue as he did, the muscle feeling thick and unwelcome behind his teeth. It was a strange feeling, to know the thoughts you were thinking were not organic but implanted, yet you continued to think them anyway, continued to enjoy them, to literally _salivate_ over them, even.

It was that thought that kept him sane, he supposed, the idea that he hadn't thought to do all of this himself, that it was all orchestrated by some mysteriously powerful being. It was that thought that kept the semblance of himself awake as he allowed his lips to part, his mouth greedily and with no hesitation taking in the other’s cock with startling ease. It was that thought that stopped him from raising his voice above a wanton sigh as his body was ploughed into by both thrusting tentacles in one swift movement, his stomach feeling full in a way that made him want to throw his head back and silently scream. That thought was what held his shivering body in one piece when the intruders did no more after that, stilling where they were inside of him, deeper than anything should have the right to be, the mid-section of them brushing in a consistent rippling wave against his swollen and desperate prostate; only after they had tortured his body with that for as long as they wished did it happen, the slow almost unnoticeable, entirely unfathomable stretch from within. Starting at the very tip of their length, the tentacles began to expand. Not by much, it was barely anything at all, but with the two of them squeezed in beside each other it was the most delectable mixture of heaven and hell that began to coil in his gut.

He wanted to scream once more, then. He wanted to yell and writhe, buck his hips and wrap thick green fingers around his own cock, or her scarlet hips or his ruby thighs. Wished with all his might that he could sit himself up on to already aching knees and push forwards until he felt the full length of the male fiends cock weigh heavy on his tongue, dragging, thick and suffocatingly slow against the very back of his throat. He wanted it, It made his instincts flare up in defence as he admitted it within himself, and caused a deep flush to cover his body when he thought of it any further, but it was the truth. Whatever he had thought before, he knew now as he heard the slap of curved thighs to his sturdy hips and felt the consistent thrusting against both his tautly stretched lips and now compellingly pliant ring of muscle that sat between the sweat soaked and trembling cheeks of his ass.

All he could do though, in this false reality of theirs, was to keen, high pitched and desperate around the throb of the cock in his mouth. He did his best to work against the underside of the shaft with his tongue, wanting to stimulate the fiend enough to cause something — _anything_ — to happen, as if the assault on every inch of his body wasn’t enough already. Fjord held himself upright as best he could, trying to angle his head to keep as much of the weighty length between his lips as he could whilst lifting his yellowed gaze. Eventually he met the unforgiving stare of the man above, Fjord could have sworn their honeyed eyes softened when their gazes first met, but it lasted no longer than that first moment if it had. Before long deliciously long fingers had tangled themselves in to the wavering lengths of his hair and — to Fjord’s ashamedly real delight — dragged him forward in one harsh, fast movement. He couldn’t help but gag as the blunt head of the length inside pressed, unrelenting with its attack, on the back of his throat, coating it with a generous helping of that same sticky precum from before. As soon as the man pulled back, his fingers still roughly wrapped around Fjord’s dark locks, Fjord swallowed and noticed the tremor that vibrated across his skin and warmth that tickled his muscles until he felt as though his soul itself had set alight. All of it starting once that liquid had found its way inside of him, another welcome invasion of his body. Having less than a few seconds to stew on the thought before he was being dragged forwards again, the incubus now fucking himself steadily in to the waiting damp heat of Fjord's eager mouth, every hard hitting cant of his hips accompanied by the hypnotically musical lull of his moans. Fjord knew what he must look like now, the unmistakable feeling of spittle and the beginnings of the other's end dribbling out from the corners of his mouth, his ability to concentrate on anything but the lustful happenings of his body apparent from the unfocused, erratic gaze he no longer had the ability to hold. 

“You’re waiting for it, aren’t you?” Sugary sweet and condescending, she spoke in the way she never tired of, even now as she ground her hips down in slow, exquisitely languid circles, Fjord’s cock rubbing against her walls from every angle when she did, wringing every devilish sound from her that he could have wished for. “You just want it to go on forever, isn't that right? But still, all you can think about is cumming; you inside of me and him inside of you. It’s only natural, we make it that way.”  

Her voice came like sandpaper now, grating his skin raw with the truth of what she told him. Fjord was obsessed, he knew it already, focused only on the release he knew was waiting. Imagining it only worsened the need. He could think of nothing but the way she might tense above him, hips stuttering to an eventual full stop, a mewl of his name or a simple, frantically yelled moan of no meaning as he slammed his own restless hips upwards, finishing in to that inviting warmth, coating every inch of her insides with his release. Then he couldn’t shake the thought of the man beside him tugging his hair by the ends, making it ache at the roots, pulling hard enough that Fjord would feel the prickling pain as strands were ripped from his skin, all whilst he pounded his cock between Fjord’s wanton lips. Perhaps he might gasp when he came, the sound soft and melodic as it seemed to always be, a strange purity juxtaposed with the feeling of hot, thick seed spilling across Fjord's tongue, filling his throat as the fiend would bottom out within it, holding Fjord where he was, his somewhat crooked nose pressed in to the flat plane of the incubus' lower stomach whilst he milked his release within the convulsing confines of Fjord's throat.

It was nothing like that, he found, no perfectly planned extravagance to it from his end. After everything he had imagined, the extent to which he had dreamed of this finish line, he soon regretted having forgotten to account for the writhing lengths that seemed to slide inquisitively over every centimetre of his innards, stopping only to apply pressure to his prostate when they discovered the anomaly all over again. It was this constant, electric pressure that set him off; Fjord felt his body tumble off a ledge in to the waiting depths of numbing pleasure below with a particularly slow drag over that delicate bundle of nerves.

Cursing inwardly with the colourful vocabulary of a sailor, he all but yelled around the girth that kept his lips spread wide, the ache that had begun to plague his jaw was forgotten as his body was set abuzz with jumping sparks of ecstasy. It was only the incubus’ hands that kept him where he longed to stay, his body going so lax from the orgasm that rolled over him that he seemed to buckle under every downward thrust of the succubus’ body. The peak he had reached was dry, his body shaking in a way he had never felt it do before, a feeling that sprung from deep within and retreated back there once it was done with him, but she still wished for him to cum within her, sloppy and wet, and so she continued. Fjord might have feared his hips would bruise if not for knowing this was anything but real. The idea still made his stomach flip with a hidden need to see the proof of their tryst and he managed a lazy roll of his hips that did nothing but urge him closer to a seemingly impossible second high, a triumph considering the situation.

He had no way to know if she came when he did this time, he suspected she had, feeling the telltale spasms of her walls, tight and even slicker than before, around his cock as he emptied himself inside of her. She had slammed herself down as far as she could at the last moment and Fjord could have sworn his eyes had momentarily rolled up, back in to his head before his eyelids had fluttered closed, lashes thick enough that they brushed the green tiny of his cheeks. He found himself unable to even make a sound in response to the exhilarating sensation.

Then, with no time for a breath between, Fjord could feel the swell of the man’s cock in his mouth as the woman lifted herself from his own gradually wilting one. He wondered if it was the sight that played out beside them that sent the man above him tumbling in to his own bliss. The succubus' plump mound and the deep burgundy curls that sat atop it slick with both sweat and cum, her elongated and manicured digits slipping inside of herself, coating their heavenly lengths with Fjord's spend. Fjord could hear her hitching breaths as she watched them. _She’s touching herself_ , he thought as his own lungs struggled to match the uneven gasps that came with this realisation, _she’s watching him fuck my mouth and she’s going to get off to it_.  Whether that was what had caused it or not, Fjord couldn’t say that he cared, thankful only for the sudden crush of skin to his square features, his eyes stayed shut as he struggled to breathe, his nose squashed once more against the musky flesh of the incubus; it felt like no time at all before the air came to him in a sudden rush, scented with as much salt as the ocean that still somehow floated around him. With that same pulling sting on his greying roots he allowed his head to be angled up, not fully understanding the sudden change until he felt the warm, heavy ropes of the mans sudden release across his skin. It felt so hot he thought it might burn, not necessarily unwanted tattoos, proof of what exactly had transpired here between them.

The half-orc bequeathed a sinful silent thanks to whoever it might apply to for the full droplet of white, cloudy spend that sat heavy on the thick balcony of Fjord’s lower lip until he swiped it clean with his tongue. It didn’t taste as he had expected, not the usual tang of salty regret, no bitter, overwhelming musk, this was almost artificially sweet, and like the honey of his voice it slid invitingly across Fjord’s skin in a way that had him worried he may just start begging for more. Relaxed and content in the knowledge that this was nothing but a wish fulfilment, a dreamscape of their creation, he lay there for a moment or two, basking in the devilish fantasy he could never imagine encountering again. Unsure of what should come next he first opened his eyes, brave and filled with confidence to start, but couldn’t help the wheeze of fearful exasperation that choked out of his throat.

Grey was what he saw

Everything in front, behind and above was mossy, wet and grey.

The bricks of the well greeted him like an old friend. The dream was over and he was left, used and exhausted, right where the nightmare had begun. Only now, he realised, there was a strange forceful pressure on his shoulders. He began to tilt his head to investigate when —

“I told you not to look up, dummy!”’ Jester complained, her voice going shrill as she finished her insult.

Oh. Fjord looked to the sides of his head instead, surveying broad shoulders with carefully peeking eyes and found dainty feet stamping on his shoulders with bluntly placed force. _Oh_.

“I —“ His voice cracked immediately and so he tried again. “I didn’t see anythin’, Jes, promise—“

There was a whoosh sound that rattled around his ears as his body plummeted with as much grace as could be expected in his situation. Hitting the ground with a startled yelp and a hollow thud Fjord dodged to make way for Jester but she never landed. Looking up he realised she was dangling joyfully where she had stood on his shoulders seconds ago, familiar hands clasping her wrists to keep her aloft. She grinned down at him with the force of a thousand suns.

From the corner of his vision Fjord saw Nott scurry towards him, stopping abruptly just in front of where he sat covered in ages old mud and plant matter. She seemed to be sporting a fresh reddening welt on her forehead, a stark rising circle against her bottle green skin. Fjord at least knew now what the mysterious thump from the depths of the well had been earlier, the fiends had resorted to peasantry violence, he could have almost laughed.

There was a strange silence between them for a few moments, heavy and questioning as Nott stared, before she pointed at him accusingly, a move not unusual for this small friend of his, and with that consistently sharp pitch she asked;

“What’s all that on your face?”  



End file.
